


Old-Fashioned Parenting with Positive Reinforcement

by autisticrick



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (just in case anyone's super squeamish but it's not graphic), (why is that not a more common tag??), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bad Parenting, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Consensual Underage Sex, Corporal Punishment, Daddy Kink, Dark Tony Stark, Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Gaslighting, Hair-pulling, Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Masochism, Mild Blood, Multiple Orgasms, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter is a Little Shit, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Size Kink, Spanking, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Under-negotiated Kink, Underage - Freeform, Voyeurism, belt spanking, peter parker is a slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticrick/pseuds/autisticrick
Summary: When Peter goes into his parents' room to steal something nice for his date, he didn't expect to find his father's stash of photos his never seen...of Peter himself. They're not the kind you put in the family album.("Masochism" square for Starker Bingo 2019)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Other(s), Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 535
Collections: Starker Bingo 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a WIP I've had since like, June, that I've wanted to post for a while now. So I figured instead procrastinating on figuring out the ending, I would just post it as two chapters. It's most of what I already had. Hopefully your guys' feedback will motivate me to write a proper conclusion. :]
> 
> **WARNING: Super fucked up underage incest ahead, with just a dash of abuse. Could be interpreted as non-con or coerced consent, but Peter is just kinky as fuck and is totally enjoying himself.**

Peter's looking around in his dad's room for a nice shirt to wear on his date with Harry tomorrow, when he finds a loose floorboard in a corner of the closet. The boy thinks he's stumbled on some secret treasure from their house's previous owner, especially when he finds a large wooden box once he jimmies out the wooden plank. But once he takes it out, he's disappointed by the label that says "RECEIPTS."

He lifts the lid anyway, maybe he'll find out what his parents are buying him for his birthday next week, and his hand goes right to his mouth when he finds a dirty magazine right at the top. Peter rifles through the box, discovering DVDs, old VHS tapes, and vintage playboy magazines.

His dick twitches every so often as he goes through them. There's a wide array of both genres and genders among Tony's porn collection. The only commonality is how _hot_ it all is.

When he reaches the bottom, Peter notices that there's actually a little more room; a false bottom in his father's box of shame. He shrugs, figuring there's nothing that could _possibly_ be worse than discovering your dad is one kinky motherfucker. Peter feels around for the groove in the wood, and finally pulls out the hatch.

There _is_ something worse.

At first, Peter thinks they're just candid photographs of some _other_ teenager with brown hair and a slim body, in various positions and states of undress. But they're dated, all within the last two or three years. Plus, it's pretty easy to recognize your own damn birthmarks and imperfections.

And he when he gets to the most recent one, dated last week, he has to bite his lip when he realizes that it's a picture of him making out with an older boy. Harry Osborn. For some fucked up reason, Peter's whole body lights up with arousal.

"Pete, are you in here?" He hears a voice call out. Before he can even think about putting the stuff away, Tony rounds the corner to look into his closet. "I already told you, I don't want you borrowing—" He cuts himself off when he notices the picture his son is holding.

"Oh," Tony says flatly, expression unreadable.

"Where's the camera in my room?" is Peter's first question. Not _'why'_ or _'what the fuck, dad'_ or perhaps just _'this is disgusting.'_ The scientific-minded kid that he is, Peter's more interested in the _how_ than the actual reason, which makes Tony chuckle and visibly relax.

"Now, why on earth should I tell you that?" His dad replies in a low but unthreatening voice. "You're the one snooping around in my closet, after I told you not to borrow any of my shirts for your date." Peter scoffs.

"What, because you want me all for yourself?" Peter is far from dumb; the _why_ is much less mystifying to him. He knows his dad has always been protective, almost _possessive_ , even. "Don't think this makes me scared of you." Obviously it does, but Tony doesn't have to know that.

Tony seems a little taken aback by how bold is son is, but he recovers quickly. "Oh, I don't doubt that, Pete," he responds in that same tone, now bordering on sultry. He steps into the doorway of the closet, approaching his son. "I never doubted your bravery, not for a second. I _am_ curious why you're still here."

Peter swallows. Why _was_ he still there? He opts for playing dumb. "What—what do you mean?"

Perhaps not _that_ dumb.

Tony snickers and closes the distance between them, hovering over his son. "Oh, you know," he says casually, hands in his pockets, "sitting in your parents' closet. With your old man's secret box of porn. Holding a picture of yourself kissing some closeted jock."

Tony looks down at his son with a big smirk before adding, "Asking me how I took it and not threatening to tell your mother. Or at least the police." He shrugs, though the joke is lost on Peter.

"I...." There's no explanation. As clever as Peter is, his dad is just as smart, if not more so. "I don't know." Tony just laughs, though not unkindly.

"Oh, I think you do." One of his hands reaches down to cup his son's chin. "I think you're turned on by the idea of your dad watching you. I think you like it that I've been getting off to your slutty little antics. That I know what you look like when you come."

Peter whimpers automatically and his dad smirks again. "That's...that's not true," he says, trying to look away. But Tony grips his chin harder so he can't.

"Don't lie to your father, Peter," he says in a stern tone. His dad never uses his full name unless he's really in trouble. "Do you need to me to spank you?"

And doesn't that just make Peter even harder? Tony has been threatening to spank him since he was a little kid, but never followed through. "You...you wouldn't. Mom won't let you," he practically squeaks out. Peter hit puberty a while ago but his voice has somehow raised 3 octaves in the last 3 minutes.

"I think we've already established that you're not telling your mother about _any_ of this. Let's go, up." Tony pulls Peter up by the scruff of his neck and the boy makes a cute, breathy sound as he gets to his feet.

"Can't tell you how nice it is to finally hear what you sound like," he mutters, more to himself than anything. But Peter hears it all the same. Tony grabs him by the wrist and drags his son out into the bedroom.

Peter stands there, harder than he's ever been, as he watches his dad shut and lock his door, then saunter over to the bed. The one Tony shares with his wife. Peter's mom.

"Come on, over my knee," Tony says as he pats his leg. When his son hesitates, he adds, "Do I need to come over there and make you?" in the same tone that he uses to reprimand Peter after staying out too late. He narrows his eyes when the boy _still_ doesn't move. "Do I?"

"Yes," Peter responds automatically. He is nothing if not rebellious, although it's not like his father wasn't expecting this. Peter has never been particularly responsive to normal parental discipline, which is why he knows Tony had wanted to use corporal punishment for so long.

"Very well," he says simply and rises from the bed. Tony walks back over to pull out a red and blue tie from the closet. Peter isn't quick enough to react when his dad spins him around and pushes him against the wall. Tony takes his time binding his son's wrists nice and tight, and the boy lets out a moan muffled by plaster.

"Oh, so you like being manhandled, hm?" He asks teasingly, clearly knowing the answer. Tony has definitely seen the kinds of boys Peter brings home and what his son lets them do to him. "Now I'm actually glad we never got you into football, then. Much more pliable that way."

Peter lets out another moan, which he has to stifle by biting his bottom lip. Tony smirks again, predatory. "I'm assuming I don't need to gag you as well?" He asks. Peter nods quickly in reply. "Good. Your mother's still making dinner. We've got about 30 minutes before she's done," Tony says as he grips Peter's shoulder roughly so he can turn his son around to face his father.

"You gonna keep quiet until then, Pete?" His eyes are squeezed shut as he nods. His father digs his nails into the skin, _hard_. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Peter's eyes shoot open and he nods again. "Good boy."

Tony maneuvers Peter by his bound wrists and tosses him unceremoniously onto the bed, front first. "But you've still been such a brat, haven't you?" He _tsks_ at his son. Peter turns his head so he can breath. "Teasing me with all those high school seniors. Going through my things without asking. Talking back." Tony palms his crotch openly so Peter can see out of his peripheral vision.

"They're in college. I don't mess around with boys my age," he replies, voice uncharacteristically challenging. Tony's eyes darken.

"Is that so?" He grips his cock harder. Peter nods sideways with a soft _'mmhmm.'_

"In that case, I don't know if you deserve something as soft as my hand," Tony teases. "Might just go straight for my belt." His voice gets noticeably lower and rougher.

Peter whimpers, and thrusts against the bed unconsciously. He's let guys spank him at their dorms, fearful the neighbors would hear the noise, but they were never brave enough to go beyond their palm. Even that time he was at a frat house, practically _begging_ the older boy to use the paddle that sat above the fake fireplace.

As if he could read his mind, Tony adds, "I think my brave boy deserves something a little stronger to keep him in line. And someone big enough to deliver." Peter thrusts against the bed frame again. His dad leans in to whisper against his ear, "We still gotta be quiet, but I don't think your mother's hearing is what it used to be."

Peter can't help the small ' _Please_ ,' that comes out at Tony's words. It's like his dad has reached inside his brain and pulled out every kink the boy's ever had in his short lifespan. But he presumes the older man has simply had enough time to study those photos.

"Please, what?"

"Please, _Daddy_!"

Tony's entire entire body freezes but Peter can see how his blood turns into liquid magma that quickly rushes to his cock. So he _wasn't_ lying when he said he'd never actually _heard_ him bring boys home. Peter was always careful to only bring them around when Tony was at work or away on business. So his father would have no idea if that's what his son actually calls his bed partners. Peter sure as hell never called his own father _'Daddy.'_

Although most of his face is pressed against the comforter, he knows Tony can see Peter's little smirk, even as the boy continues to rut against the bed like a bitch in heat. Because he knows his dad all too well—there's no way he'll let Peter think he can be outdone.

Tony fists Peter's hair so he can smother his face into the soft fabric, and proceeds to slam his clothed hips against his backside. The boy finds himself trapped, unable to find any friction for himself as his father grinds his hard cock against his tight ass.

"You feel that?" Peter lets a muffled sound of acknowledgment. " _That's_ what you're doing to me. Never imagined I'd raised such a slut of a son."

The boy whines again. He honestly never could have imagined his dad was actually _turned on_ by his son. It's not like Peter has the greatest relationship with his father, but it always felt like a tough love kind of thing. Tony was overprotective of his only son and expected a lot from Peter. To a normal person, that would _seem_ like an appropriate attitude for a parent to take to their offspring.

For Peter, it was fuel for his sexual fantasies. He wonders back to all those times his mother stopped his dad. All those times his face had just the barest hint of disappointment, did Tony notice? Was he keen to Peter's game? He arches into the bed and tries to push his ass, squeezed into those tight jeans, up against his father's clothed erection. But his dad was never meant to be _part_ of those fantasies, right?

Tony steps away, and goes back to palming himself through his slacks. "God, if I knew you were this desperate for your old man, I would have tried something years ago."

Peter turns his head back to the side once more so he can breathe. "So why don't you start making up for lost time, _Daddy_?"

Tony grabs the boy's soft curls to push him right back into the mattress. "I'll touch you when I'm good and ready, boy, and not a second sooner," he growls, right into Peter's ear as he leans over. "Your mother might tolerate it, but you've been such an insolent little brat for _far_ too long."

Peter feels himself physically shaking, he's so affected by his father's words. He's whining harshly, choking on air as his father smothers him further into the comforter.

"You think you're such hot shit in bed, but I'm not some 20-something college kid who's gonna jump on the first piece of ass that gives him the time of day." Peter's thrusts against the bed are getting erratic and he wouldn't be surprised if he comes in his pants. As if on cue, Tony adds, "I bet I can make you come like this. Face down, ass up, completely untouched."

When he finally releases Peter's hair, the boy immediately lifts his head so he can take in some much needed oxygen. Tony reaches under his son's legs, hand ghosting over his fly as if he's going to unzip it. The angle is awkward when Peter tries to lean into the touch. Tony is able pull his hand away quite easily, snickering. "Do you usually get this worked up during foreplay with your gym rat college boys?"

Peter whines out a soft, "No, Daddy." He turns his head so he look his father in the eyes. "Only for you." Tony growls at that. He runs his finger down his son's ass, causing him to release a full-body shiver.

"I can't imagine what it's like to walk around in jeans like these all day. Your little cock must ache after a long day of school," Tony muses. "Must be why you're always so quick to take them off when you get home." Peter whimpers at the reminder of his father's voyeuristic invasion of his privacy. "Your old man certainly wouldn't last very long," Tony leans in to whisper in Peter's ear again. " _My_ dick is too big for skinny jeans."

Peter's back arches as he cries out—Tony is quick to cover the boy's mouth—and comes in his pants. "Good boy," his dad murmurs, petting his head softly. His son keens and leans into the touch. "I think you're ready to take your punishment, hm?" Peter rapidly nods into the hand on his mouth enthusiastically before Tony pulls back.

 _"Boys, dinner's ready!"_ Father and son sigh frustratedly in tandem.

"We'll be there in a bit, sweetie!" Tony bellows out, voice back to its normal fatherly tone.

_"Okay!"_

Tony pulls Peter back to his feet by his wrists. The boy is having a hard time standing up right as his dad quickly pulls the catch on the knot on his wrists and lets it fall to the ground.

"Go back to your room, make sure mom doesn't see you, clean up your face and put on one of your big sweatshirts," Tony mutters into Peter's ear. He gives the boy's ass a light swat. "We'll continue this after dinner. Don't change your pants or underwear."

Before the boy can protest with a claim of not being hungry, his father is already out the door and directing his attention back to his mother.

As he brings his wrists forward, understanding dawns over Peter's face: there's a ring of angry red skin below each of his palms. His wrists would need to be covered quickly and discreetly.

Peter's already starting to get hard again.

Once his post-orgasm high starts to wear off, he also realizes there's a wet discomfort in his pants; which could easily be covered up by an over-sized hoodie.

Peter isn't going to make it worse for himself by _directly_ going against his dad's instructions, but maybe he can do something to get a rise out of Tony at dinner...

When Peter finally enters the dining room, his dad quips, "Glad you could finally make it," like nothing's changed. And without even looking up from his pasta.

His mother's face lights up when she sees him, and Peter can't help but smile back.

"Hey, Pete, do you need me to heat up a plate for you?" She asks, already spooning out some pasta onto a plate before Peter can reply.

"Yeah, that would be great, Mom. Thanks." Once she's turned her back to go back to the kitchen, Peter sits down right next to his dad. He stares up at him in complete disbelief; there isn't _anything_ in Tony's expression that would indicate what transpired barely 40 minutes earlier.

"Something on my face, kid?" Tony asks after swallowing a mouthful of spaghetti. Peter shakes his head before looking down at his lap.

It doesn't feel quite as gross as it did earlier, but now that his come's dried, it feels crusty more than sticky. Peter shifts around in his seat a little. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he catches a smirk from his dad, but it's gone as soon as his mother returns with the microwaved plate.

"So how was PSAT tutoring, today?" May asks casually. "Did you get that from Harry?" She nods at his light green hoodie with 'Midtown University' emblazoned across the front in yellow. Tony grips his fork just a fraction tighter.

"Yeah, he gave it to me as a gift for working so hard these past months," Peter says through a mouth full of pasta and tomato sauce.

"Don't talk while you're eating, Pete," Tony says with a slight edge to his voice. "No one wants to see that." Peter chews slowly with his mouth open, making sure his father sees every morsel in his mouth before swallowing it down. Tony narrows his eyes.

"Sorry, Dad," Peter says, not at all contrite, but it was not unusual for him and his dad to be at odds. "Anyway, yeah, he says he thinks I have a good chance of scoring in the top 95th percentile. Which is usually enough to get the scholarship."

"Why not 98th?" Tony asks without skipping a beat.

"Oh, just be proud of the boy for once, Tony," May reprimands him with a light smack on the top of his hand. "He's worked hard for this!"

"I'm just saying, I don't think our boy should be settling for a lower score. He _should_ be doing the best he possibly can."

"I would say Harry definitely brings out the best in me," Peter says after scarfing down another forkful of spaghetti. He looks _directly_ at Tony when he adds, "I mean, sometimes he's even _harder_ on me than you, Dad." The older man's mouth twitches but otherwise keeps his composure.

"See?" May says, inadvertently breaking the tension she didn't know was there. "He's in good hands!"

Tony shrugs, faking a smile and a chuckle. "You're probably right, May," he concedes. He pecks her on the lips, which ignites a twinge of jealousy in Peter's belly.

"Of course I'm right, honey," May says as she pecks Tony right back and gets up from the table. For some reason, that makes Peter feel even more jealous. "Hey, why don't you two put on Netflix while I clean up, here?" She smiles as she starts taking the plates away, but Tony stops her.

"Don't worry, sweetie, we'll take care of this. I was planning on turning in early tonight, anyway." Tony turns to Peter. "And Peter's got a test to study for tomorrow, isn't that right?"

"Yeah," Peter replies, a little too fast and a little too high; May doesn't notice. "Big math test tomorrow." She simply shrugs and puts the plates back down.

"Alright, if you say so. Thanks, honey," May gives her husband one last kiss on the cheek before heading to the living room. Peter can't believe he feels jealous because of something that seemed so _ordinary_ yesterday.

When she's out of earshot, Peter turns to his dad and hisses out " _You're_ the one who told me to wear a sweatshirt." Tony just smirks, ignoring his son's anger in favor of gathering the dishes on the table. "You didn't have to—to—"

"Kiss my wife?" Tony supplies. "Not sure I'm seeing your logic here, kid."

Peter grumbles as he angrily gathers the silverware and the rest of the dishes. He knows his dad is _technically_ correct, but it feels like he's trying to flaunt...something. Or maybe make the boy more aware of his shame.

"Hey babe, do you think you could wear the headphones while you're watching?" Tony yells out in the direction of the living room. "Since Peter's gonna be studying, and I'm heading to sleep soon, thought it might be easier."

"Sure thing, darling!" May replies equally loud and cheery. Peter glares at Tony; is he honestly upset at his parents' pet names for each other?

"Thanks, babe!" Tony shouts his reply while smirking at Peter. The boy's mouth opens for a retort, but his dad puts his finger on his lips and furrows his brow in mock seriousness.

They silently clean off their plates and load the dishwasher, until then telltale hum of the TV makes its way through the house.

"You know," Tony starts, as he deposits the last plate into the dishwasher, in an unnervingly casual tone. "I had been considering not beating your ass _completely_ raw." He turns to Peter, staring him down. The boy flinches, practically cowering at the underlying threat. "That's _completely_ out the window, now."

Peter can't help the whimper that comes out. "I wasn't lying about the test tomorrow. I just...don't need to study for it," he mumbles, trying to keep his voice at a normal level.

" _Good_ ," Tony says as he steps toward the nervous Peter. The boy's thinking he possibly may have bitten off more than he can chew in provoking his old man. "You can do well and _also_ feel the burn from my belt stripping your sweet ass."

Peter whines as his hand unconsciously reaches down, but Tony grabs it before it can get very far. "Nu-uh, only good boys get rewarded," he scolds his son. He squeezes the boy's hand entirely too hard. "Bad boys and cock teases do not. And you," Tony pulls him into his chest, "have been both."

Peter can't help but lick his lips. His father's name calling seems to reignite the boy's confidence.

"Sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to," he says as his free hand snakes in between them to feel out Tony's crotch. He was _not_ lying about the size. It makes Peter's mouth water, and his own cock hardens appreciatively. "Can I make it up to to you?"

That sultry tongue combined with those words leave no room for misinterpretation. Tony bares his teeth and gives a low, rumbling sound of appreciation (Peter can feel the vibrations from his father's diaphragm) before fisting Peter's hair and pushing him down to his knees. "You can certainly try." He smothers the boy into his crotch, making Peter mewl. "Get to work," Tony growls.

Peter flutters his eyelashes as he works on Tony's fly. "Yes, Daddy," he says before pulling his father's cock out. The boy's eyes go wide: it's even bigger than he'd imagined. Peter's rough estimate for length is about 7 inches (and it isn't fully hard, yet) but the girth...he's not even sure he can fit it all in his mouth.

"Well?" Tony asks impatiently, tapping his foot for dramatic effect. Peter gulps before scootching forward on his knees and suckling at the head.

"Mmm, yeah," Tony moans appreciatively as his eyes flutter shut. "Thaaat's it.

Peter hasn't given a _lot_ of blowjobs (relative to the number of guys he's made out with) but he's done it enough times to know that everyone likes something different. He takes in a little more, eyes already beginning to water. Tries swirling his tongue around Tony's cock, but it feels so big. He's hoping his dad will give him some direction.

"Yeah, right there, use your tongue more," Tony grunts. Peter can't help but moan as he makes the effort to follow his dad's instructions; the vibrations earn him a raspy, "Oh yeah, _fuck_ ," and a tighter grip in Peter's hair. "Your mouth feels _perfect_ , Pete."

He moans again at the praise, which earns him more words of encouragement from his father (though logically he knows the inside of his mouth isn't something he has actual control over). Peter keeps taking a little more at time, while also focusing on trying to move his tongue around Tony's massive girth.

Peter thinks he's been keeping a reasonable pace, when suddenly Tony's entire cock is stuffed into his mouth at once. He can feel his father's eyes boring into his skull as he watches his son choking on his length, eyes watering, face pressed against wiry pubic hair.

"Tony?" A female voice cuts in from the living room. Peter's immediately taken out of the moment and his eyes go wide as he tries to pull away. But his father keeps his son's head firmly pressed against his crotch.

"Yeah, honey?" Tony calls back, his tone doing nothing to indicate he's got his cock shoved down his son's throat. Peter gives a soft whine, muffled by dick and pubic hair; his father tugs his hair sharply as a warning. "I'm in the kitchen getting a snack, what's up?"

"Can you check if there's any popcorn?" May calls back. Peter is trying to breathe through his nose, but it's difficult when all you can inhale is the musk of your father's groin.

"Sure thing!" Instead of replying right away, Tony takes a moment to pretend like he's actually looking. Peter's vision is starting to fade. "Sorry, no popcorn. You want me to put it on the shopping list?" The boy briefly considers biting, but realizes it could only make everything worse.

"That would be great, thanks, sweetie!" Tony actually _drags_ Peter with him as he walks backwards to the kitchen counter so he can scribble on the notepad there.

"No problem, babe!" Tony doesn't let go until the muted hum of the TV fills the house once more.

Peter pulls off Tony's cock and falls back onto his hands. He's gasping, breathing in giant lungfuls of air at a time. His face aches and his throat burns like nothing he's felt before.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Pete," Tony says dismissively. "The average guy can hold his breath for up to 40 seconds." Peter just glares. Or as best he can when his cheeks are smeared with tears and saliva. "That was less than half a minute."

"It sure didn't feel like it," Peter mutters, trying to lower his voice enough so his dad doesn't hear. But Tony grabs pulls him up by his hood and the boy scrambles to his feet.

"Would you rather I wash your mouth out with soap instead? God knows how _filthy_ it is." Peter shakes his head. "Good."

Peter assumes his dad wants him to finish what he started. But when he gets back on his knees and tries to grasp Tony's cock with his hands (so his dad can't gag him again), the older man grabs both of the boy's wrists before they can touch his flesh. Peter whimpers, the skin still raw from being tied up before.

"You think you deserve to touch me, Pete? With those dirty fuckin' hands of yours?" Tony practically spits at his son. Peter shakes his head, wide-eyed and whimpering, but his father grips harder. "Use your words, boy."

"N-no, Daddy! No, sir!" Peter whines out. "I'm such a dirty boy, I don't deserve to touch you!" Tony, wrists still in hand, nudges the boy's knees apart: his newly awakening erection is obvious and his son blushes in humiliation. "I deserve to be punished."

Those words are pushing Tony closer to the edge. "Mmm, you sure do." He finally lets go of Peter's wrists and squeezes the base of his own cock before putting it away.

Tony knows _exactly_ how his son's punishment is going to end, and it's going to require a significant amount of control on his part.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I had some other projects I was working on and it's taken a minute for me to get back into the mood to write something so dirtybadwrong. I was also frustrated at how very little I edited the first chapter from what I posted on Discord many moons ago. It read more like an RP and I noticed a lot of the edits I DID make didn't really help the flow of the story. I revised it a bunch (nothing major) so it flows exclusively from Peter's POV (except for the last line because it's my favorite). This chapter was originally going to be exclusively from Tony's perspective, but it ended up just having clearer delineations on POV change. Added some more tags too; it ended up being softer than I originally intended lol.
> 
> I also tried not to be so nitpicky about grammatical consistency because I've started to learn that I'm pretty much the only one who cares about that shit. No beta, because I've made y'all wait long enough for this one. But if anybody wants to make themselves available for beta work....I would absolutely love it. Just trying to proofread my own stuff has driven me crazy.
> 
> **WARNING: This is still SUPER fucked up, albeit ultimately consensual, underage incest with abusive overtones. Borders on unreliable narrator, but not quite there. It's all fiction and in no way reflects my personal beliefs or morals.**

"Now, get up."

"Yes, sir!" Peter responds immediately, scrambling to his feet. Tony gives him an appreciative nod but nothing more. After all, this is an expected obedience. 

Tony watches the boy squirm for a moment, letting his eyes rake over that vulnerable form. Hands clenching at his sides, clearly anxious. The hoodie managed to successfully hide everything from his mother’s view (colored wrists, stained crotch) so now he'll have a chance to drink in his marks once Peter takes it off.

"Let's go," Tony finally says and pushes past Peter toward the master bedroom. He hears the sound of bare feed on varnished wood padding behind him a moment later. The older man hasn't even taken off his shoes yet and the only sign of a possible loss of composure is the slightly rumpled fly on his slacks. 

Once they get there, Tony lets his son in first before locking the door behind them. His father turns to him, arms crossed.

"Strip," Tony commands, projecting a deep anger in his tone. Peter, smart boy that is, starts by tearing off the hoodie like it's burned him. "I should cut that thing to shreds, but I don't need your mother getting suspicious. Continue." The boy looks as if he's going to remove his shirt with the same frantic motion—his father directs him differently. " _Slowly_ ," Tony adds.

"Yes, sir," Peter gulps audibly. He takes just a split second to regain his composure, but it’s entirely too long for Tony. He’s about to remark on the hesitation, when the boy starts slowly swaying his hips, fingers barely grasping at the hem of his t-shirt. His father's impatience comes out as a low, rumbling purr instead.

"Good boy," Tony growls, though not angrily. He's no longer the vicious hunter, but the predator, playing with his food. He doesn't miss Peter's tiny whimper in response to the praise. His father starts palming his crotch again. This show _is_ for Tony, so he’s going to enjoy himself.

Peter takes his time revealing each new sliver of skin—navel, stomach, chest, nipples, sternum, collar bone—Tony's little grunts and oft repeated _'yeah'_ and _'that's it'_ , and the one ' _fuck yeah_ , _baby'_ really seems to get his son going. 

Tony can see the outline of his boy’s cock straining against that tight denim. By the time Peter reaches his neck, he’s outright _moaning_ as he pulls his shirt off.

"I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to _watch_ you do that," Tony groans once his son's naked torso is fully revealed to him. Peter blushes; his father can see how it reaches from his clavicle all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Still frames can only capture so much.

"But Daddy's little slut finally remembers who really owns him, yeah?" The boy whimpers harshly. Embarrassed, almost; like he’s suddenly realizing the truth to those words. "C’mon, now, finish up. Wouldn't wanna keep Daddy waiting." Tony crosses his arms for effect.

Peter nods shakily as he finally reaches for his crotch. He slowly undoes the top button. Tony's hungry eyes devour the wet patch below his zipper—but they grow to the size of dinner plates when he notices the sheer white of the panties underneath. His mouth goes dry at the tiny pink bow at the top and the soft material, which is _much_ more visibly damp than he could have _possibly_ imagined.

Tony's poised control finally snaps.

Before Peter can even touch his waist, his dad strides toward the boy in two big steps, picking up the previously discarded tie along the way. Tony violently shoves down the underwear/jeans combo off of Peter's sinful hips so they’re pooled at his ankles. Peter lets out a sound like a wounded animal, but he doesn’t protest the treatment, or even try to cover his crotch. 

Tony wastes no time: swifty, he turns the boy around, pushes him into the mattress face first, and starts wrapping up Peter's wrists once again. He doesn’t even let his son kick his pants off of his feet.

"I bet you've known all along that I've been watching you," Tony growls as he winds the fabric tightly. It’s even harsher than before, with no quick release knot. He’s sure Peter will have to wear long sleeves for at least a week. "Acting the way you do for those pathetic _boys_ ,” he tests the give, which is sufficiently minimal, “when you know you were just putting on a show for a real _man_ like me.”

Once satisfied, Tony lays his body flush against Peter's back, effectively pinning him to the mattress. "Isn't that right?" 

Peter’s body is shaking as he whimpers in reply, obviously anxious and unsure. The fear is not enough—Tony wants his boy to admit this. Wants to force his son into shamefully vocalizing dirty day dreams about his father.

" _Right_?" Tony demands angrily. His fingers shove into those luscious curls and pull upward.

"Yes!" Peter finally cries out. Tony's nails reproachfully dig harder into the boy's scalp. "Yes, Daddy! It was all for you!" He smirks when he sees the tears forming in his son’s eyes.

"And you saved your pretty little hole for me too, _right_?" Tony growls again, lilting in a sugary sweet tone. As if Peter’s virginity is a treat for him to savor and enjoy. 

This time, Peter doesn't hesitate to answer, "Yes, Daddy!” Tony hums appreciatively. “I'm such a slut, but I saved my virgin hole all for you,” he continues, unprompted. Tony groans at those words—it's more than clear that Peter honestly _believes_ what he's saying.

"Good boy," Tony says as his grip loosens, petting him instead. "You're not getting out of your beating, but you can come as much as you like." He leans in again, right next to Peter's ear, "Except I won't touch your little cock until your ass is _bleeding_ from my belt." 

As if he'd pressed a magic button, Peter arches his neck and lets out a long cry, come spurting out from his tiny cock against the soft comforter. “ _There’s_ my good boy,” he murmurs, smoothing his hand along Peter’s naked back. Tony will have to swap out the duvet once they’re done, but it’ll be worth it.

“Now let’s get you on the bed, up.” Tony grabs at Peter’s thighs so he can haul him up and on his knees. Every inch of the boy’s body is quivering and Tony can’t help but palm at his crotch again.

“Sensitive, are we?” Tony teases. Peter nods as his father pushes down his back to raise the boy's ass higher.

"I-I really like how big your hands are," Peter whimpers. "Want them all over me…"

If he wasn't so turned on, Tony would be angry about how much of a slut Peter turned out to be. But now he can have his son all to himself, burning away the memories of all the others. Unworthy boys pretending to be men—they never deserved to touch something so special.

"You say that to every guy who shows you a good time?" Tony growls out.

"No, Daddy, of course not," Peter replies. He arches his back even further, putting his ass at crotch level for Tony. His son looks back at him with a flutter of his eyelashes. "None of them were as big and strong as _you_."

Tony licks his lips and grabs at Peter's hip. "Damn right," he growls, pulling that pert bottom against his clothed dick. "These are the only hands that know how to put you in your place. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy," Peter moans in response as he grinds back against Tony's dick. "Please punish me for being a disobedient son and a dirty slut." His father can't help but grunt, dick twitching against the tight confines of his slacks.

"Such a quick learner, my smart boy." Tony shoves the boy’s jeans off onto the ground, but takes the panties. He can see Peter watching with rapt attention as his father lifts them toward his face. When Tony darts out his tongue to taste the dried semen, he hears the hitch in his son’s breath before Peter buries his face back into the comforter.

Tony smirks as he stuffs Peter's soiled underwear into his pocket. Prior to settling down, he'd always been the type to take trophies from his sexual conquests. His son would be no exception.

"Dirty boy still has some shame, hm?" Tony teases. He can hear the muffled whimpers into the bed. "Don't play coy, your old man is smarter than that." Peter whimpers again as his father reaches out to palm the fleshy globes of his son's ass. "I know how much you _like_ this.

"So let's start warming up those cheeks, yeah?" Without warning, Tony smacks against the left one. Peter's whole body seems to jolt; Tony's perverted, fucked-up brain is still able to isolate the perfect jiggle of his son’s ass.

"Beautiful," Tony rasps out, low and gravelly. "Absolutely _beautiful_ , Pete." He lays out a few more experimental smacks, until he can see the vague outline of a handprint in red.

"Daddy it _hurts_ ," Peter whines. Tony can see his hands struggling against his binds and frowns. "Hurts real bad."

"It's supposed to hurt," Tony growls as he pushes down on Peter's wrists. "Otherwise, how will you learn?" The boy whimpers again, though he also seems to be thrusting against the comforter.

"But Daddy—"

"Do you want me to stop?" Tony cuts him off. Because he will; he may be a disciplinarian, but he's not a _monster_. If Tony thought that Peter didn't want this the _slightest_ bit…

"No, Daddy," he finally answers after a long beat of silence. Tony hums in acknowledgment, as he traces a finger along the reddening skin. He can feel the goosebumps rising on Peter's skin.

"Good," he grips the solid flesh with a bruising hand, "because I'm just getting started." Tony immediately starts smacking the other cheek and it's just as beautiful. Peter's skin reddens so prettily, it makes him want to see how far he can go. What will this shade of red look like when it's complemented by blood? 

The thought has Tony's cock straining painfully against his zipper. But for Peter's sake, he has to keep control—otherwise the lesson will get lost in the boy's pleasure.

Besides, he's more interested in adding a different color fluid to the mix.

Peter loses track of how much time his father has spent spanking him with just his hands. He'd thought Tony would go straight for his belt like he'd promised earlier, but maybe that was just because he thought they had less time.

Because this? This is _much_ worse. This is a true punishment and the only reason Peter hasn't told Tony to stop is because his twisted, deliriously horny brain has decided he would really, _really_ love to have his father take his virginity. If he chickens out now, he might lose his only chance.

Now that Peter's gotten a taste of the forbidden fruit, it's impossible for him to resist. He's already come two more times, just from his father spanking him. And true to his word, he hasn't so much as grazed the hair on his son's balls.

Peter strains his neck to look back, just in time to see Tony check his watch.

"45 minutes," he chuckles in a disinterested tone that sends another spike of arousal to Peter's core. "It's a good thing your mother loves bingeing those _true crime_ shows." Peter would roll his eyes if he had the energy, but all his moaning and crying has left him exhausted. And maybe a little more careful about provoking his dad. 

"I think you're ready for my belt, no?" Peter's eyes bulge wide when Tony looks right at him. There's a split second where he thinks he can see a modicum of concern, but it disappears as Peter nods his head rapidly. "Eager, are we?"

"Y-yes sir," Peter replies automatically. The suggestion seems to have reinvigorated his body, as he pushes his ass up invitingly. Tony smirks at Peter’s intentionally blatant sign of submission. "R-ready for more punishment, _Daddy_."

Tony laughs at that, but Peter sees how his father squeezes his erection again. "You're not supposed to enjoy this, slut." Tony growls before grabbing Peter's hair and suffocating him against the comforter once again. "I'm not fucking you until I see blood on that pretty ass, got it?"

With the last bit of strength he can muster, Peter manages to push against Tony's hand to say, "But you _are_ gonna fuck me, right?"

Tony scoffs, then presses Peter's face back into the wet fabric. Even without the come stains, the duvet is soaked with tears and saliva.

"You are such a little shit, you know that?" Tony growls as Peter can hear him attempt to unbuckle his belt one-handed. "Guess I can't blame you, though," he sighs, before giving up and letting Peter breath. The sharp swish of leather makes the boy _ache_ with need. "I was just as rebellious at your age.

"But at least _I_ give a shit about you, Pete." Peter whimpers, unsure of what to make of that statement. He'd always thought Tony's preferred brand of discipline came from his own father. But maybe it's more complicated than that…

Unfortunately, that line of thought is cut off and Peter's brain short circuits when he feels a blow of rough leather across both cheeks.

" _FUCK!_ " Pete yells unthinkingly. The pain is unlike anything he's ever experienced; _much_ worse than Tony's hand. He can’t even process the cold metal prong he felt digging into his skin, as his father lands another blow right on top of it. "SHIT, _OW_!"

"Peter…" Tony warns. Normally, that tone just irritates Peter. But right now he feels properly chastised. "Don't forget your mother is still in the next room. So don't make it worse for yourself."

There's a half-formed snappy comeback on the tip of Peter's tongue, but he mutters a noticeably softened, "Sorry," instead.

" _Good_ boy." The praise calms him just enough to stop short of screaming as Tony continues.

It feels like he's bleeding already. But Peter knows his dad wouldn't lie to him. Not like _that_ , anyway.

It's only another 30 minutes before Tony's belt buckle finally breaks the skin. It’s fairly small, but Peter definitely feels it, if the choked out cry of " _Daddy!_ " is any indication.

Tony quickly checks his phone to see that May is still only halfway through her docuseries, leaving enough time to fuck his son and clean up their mess. Pulling out the boy’s ruined panties, he quickly wipes away the thin trickle of blood—and lays in one more smack, just for good measure. Peter seems to feel _that_ too.

"B-but you said—" he starts blubbering, but Tony shushes him with pets to his back and hair.

"Don't worry, baby," he soothes, turning Peter over to his front, with his ass hanging off the bed. "Daddy's done with his belt."

Looking at Peter's tear-stricken face, there's a surge of pride and arousal at what Tony sees. Pride at _finally_ subduing his teenage menace. Arousal because he looks prettier than anything he’s ever seen.

"My brave boy…taking his punishment so well," Tony murmurs. He wipes away a tear from Peter's face, before leaning in to plant a tender kiss against his son's lips.

"I think you've earned something a little more gentle, no?" Tony kisses him again, languishing in the pliant submission as Peter lets his father's tongue explore. He can't nod fast enough.

"Please, Daddy," Peter moans softly. "Want you inside me." Tony reluctantly pulls away so he can grab the lube from his bedside table.

"This is still going to hurt, so I need to prep you," Tony says as he squeezes some onto his fingers. "But we can take care of your backside after we're done."

Peter raises a brow in confusion. "I thought you wanted me to feel it." Tony almost feels his heart stop. Maybe it really _is_ safer for his first time to be with his dad.

"You will _definitely_ feel it," Tony says in a stern tone as a finger hovers over Peter's hole. "But that skin needs to heal and I'm _not_ risking infection."

Peter actually blushes at that. As if it hadn't even crossed his mind that Tony would administer aftercare. Something fierce and protective coils around his heart as he looks at his son. _Nobody_ else will _ever_ be worthy of touching him.

"Lift your knees up," Tony says as he nudges at Peter's legs with his clean hand. "C'mon, up." The boy is bent in half when Tony finally slides his finger in.

"Oh _god_ ," Peter gasps at the intrusion. Tony sinks in up to the first knuckle. "Y-your hand feels like...like…"

"A _man's_ hand?" Tony supplies with a grin. Peter gives a breathy moan in reply. "A _real_ man takes care of his lover." The boy looks away, but Tony won't have that.

"Look at me, baby," he growls, grabbing Peter by the chin. Tony didn’t intend to use a pet name, but it just felt... _necessary_. The boy does open his eyes, but they're hooded with lust. Tony slips in the second finger. "You deserve nothing less than the best." His thumb pushes at the seam of the boy's lips, and he sucks it in right away.

"The _best_ ," Tony repeats, punctuating the word by jabbing Peter's prostate. The effect is instant, as the boy's body jolts with pleasure.

"Daddy, _please_ ," Peter moans. "Need your cock in me now."

“Patience, sweetheart” Tony plants a soft kiss on his son’s forehead before sticking his third finger in. Peter _definitely_ notices the affectionate pet name this time, blushing furiously and whining as his dad begins stretching his hole properly. “None of that, now, I don’t want to cause permanent damage.”

Tony can see the spark of rebellion that lights up in Peter’s eyes—then how quickly it’s snuffed out as he hits his son’s sweet spot again. He leans over and mutes the pleasured cries from his son with his own mouth.

“So good for me,” Tony murmurs between kisses. Peter practically melts into the bed, pliant and relaxed. His legs are still obediently bent up and spread invitingly. “I think you’re ready for my cock, now.” His son can only slur a vague sound of agreement, which morphs into another whine when Tony removes his fingers.

“You’ll be full again soon, don’t worry,” Tony chuckles fondly. He unzips his fly; the sound seems to make Peter jerk as his legs start trembling. “You have to calm down, baby,” Tony says as he gently turns Peter to his side. Immediately, the boy curls in his strained legs. He looks back at his father expectantly.

“Please, Daddy…” Peter whimpers, as if it’s the only thing he remembers how to say.

“Daddy’s here, baby.” Tony finally takes out his cock and slicks it up. He slides his shoes off before getting behind Peter like they’re spooning. “I’ll take care of you,” he coos sweetly into Peter’s ear. Tony pulls an arm around his son’s chest before slowly sinking his cock into that well-stretched hole.

“ _Oh—!!_ ” Peter starts, but Tony quickly covers the boy’s mouth before he can let out another loud moan. 

“Gonna have to— _ah_ —gag you next time,” Tony grunts as he bottoms out right away. He really had been planning to be slow with Peter and make the boy’s first time more gentle than this. But now that his achingly erect cock is inside his son, it’s hard to stay in control. Thankfully, Peter doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Or do this when she’s not— _hng_ —not around— _fuck_.” Peter continues to moan especially loud at his father’s dirty talk. “Maybe we’ll do a weekend— _fuck, baby_ —some— _hng_ —father-son bonding, yeah?” Tony grabs Peter’s hips when the boy nods in agreement, pistoning his hips in and out of that virgin hole.

“My own personal slut,” Tony growls as he takes hold of Peter’s still hard cock, pumping wildly. It takes only a few minutes before the boy is coming for the fifth time because of his father. Tony briefly removes his hand so he can swallow that gorgeous cry of ecstasy.

As Peter lays limp in his arms, his father starts chasing his orgasm more ferociously than before. Tony’s fingers dig deep into those slim hips, fully intending to leave bruises. He doesn’t even need to cover Peter’s mouth anymore, with the only sounds being Tony’s grunts and the slap of skin on skin.

Then he pulls out.

Peter feels like he’s been moving in and out of consciousness for the past 15 minutes, but the loss of fullness in his hole is enough to pull him back to reality. 

“Daddy?” He manages to slur out. Peter tries looking behind him, but he’s already moved off the bed. He’d been looking forward to Tony coming inside him, but it seems his father has other plans. Peter feels more than sees himself being manhandled onto his front. He whimpers as his father pulls his ass back up, though his hands seem to carefully avoid the sensitive skin of his cheeks.

“This is still part of the punishment, baby,” Tony purrs, albeit significantly less composed than before. Peter cranes his neck to look back and whines at what he sees: his father, jerking off with one hand, cell phone in the other. Peter struggles uselessly against his bonds, thinking his free hands could grab his father’s cock and stick it back in.

“I know what a little cockslut like you really wants.” Peter’s mouth waters at the sight of Tony’s fully-erect dick, licking his lips at the beads of precome that drip from the slit of it. But he quickly shuts his mouth when his father smirks knowingly. “Yeah, see, but it’s not about what _you_ want, Pete.

“This is about _control_ ,” Tony grunts out. From this angle, Peter can actually see how his father’s balls start to tighten, “For. Your. Own. _Good!_ ” Each word is punctuated with a pump of Tony’s wrists and on the last word, he aims his cock onto his son’s ass. 

Peter can only assume Tony comes right where he broke the skin.

Once his father is done coming, Peter buries his face back into the soaked duvet, burning red with shame. He won’t even look up when Tony tries to coax him off the bed, something about a bath. Everything they’ve just done seems to hit Peter at once and he can’t bear to look at his dad.

“Fine, no bath, but I still need to treat your—” Before Tony can finish, Peter slides his body forward on the bed so he can lay flat, but keeps his face firmly planted into the duvet cover. He can almost hear the eyeroll in Tony’s resulting sigh. Only when he hears his father leave does Peter move his head to the side.

This _was_ what he wanted, right? For his dad to take control?

There’s a million and one thoughts racing through Peter’s head as he stares blankly at a spot on the wall. Is Tony a bad father? Is Peter just a fucked up kid? Does he really want a next time?

He doesn’t even notice his dad’s returned until he feels something cool on his ass.

“Ah!” Peter squeaks out. “S’cold!”

“I warned you, Pete,” Tony chuckles. Peter averts his eyes, embarrassed. “You seemed pretty out of it, but the skin won’t heal properly if I don’t treat it right away.” Peter also notices his hands are untied, feeling the blood flow back into his wrists as he clenches his fists.

“Why do _you_ care?” Peter grumbles out as Tony continues to administer gel to his backside. He pauses briefly, but doesn’t say anything. “You’re the one who made it that way.”

“I care because I’m your father,” Tony says, although without the stern reprimand Peter is used to. “And I know that sounds like just a line to you, but it’s true.” The boy grits his teeth, but still refuses to make eye contact. He even crosses his arms.

“Is that why you had all those dirty photos of me? Because you _care_?” Peter spits out.

“Believe it or not, _yes_.” The level of composure in Tony’s voice makes Peter want to pull his hair out. As usual, he doesn’t even have to raise his voice to sound authoritative. “I am _definitely_ a pervert, but that’s also why I know the difference between kinky and _abusive_.” The boy furrows his brow; that’s certainly not what he expected. A denial, perhaps. Not an actual reason to be so protective.

“Peter...all these years, I’ve been deferring to your _mother’s_ judgement.” Tony doesn’t need to clarify because Peter is starting to understand. He acts out. He might get straight As, but he isn’t above being reckless and defiant.

“But words were never enough to keep you from being like...like _this_.” Tony gestures vaguely at Peter’s body. “Don’t move, this needs a couple minutes to dry,” he adds quickly, probably trying to change the subject.

“I wanted it too, Dad,” Peter murmurs. “It’s not your fault I’m... _kinky_ ,” the word ‘painslut’ feels like too much right now, “because all I wanted was to _feel_ it hurt.” Tony’s fingers trace comforting circles against his back and Peter arches into the touch like a cat. 

“I hate being told I’m smart when it feels like nothing changes.” Peter finally looks back at his father, whose expression gives nothing away. “I want to be tough like _you_ , Dad.”

Tony actually smiles at that.

“I thought messing around with college boys would help,” Peter tapers off, looking away again. But a firm hand in his hair carefully turns him back

“I know, son. Better than you might think,” Tony says, sitting next to Peter. “My dad...he was just indifferent.” His father closes his own eyes, sighing. “So when it came to you, I didn’t want to be so hands off.”

Peter snorts. Tony suddenly realizes how that sounds.

“Not that I _planned_ —”

“I understand,” Peter cuts him off with a raised hand. “The pictures started after I hit puberty.” Tony breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s still pretty fucked up though. Monitoring your son’s sex life,” he tacks on as an afterthough.

“And begging your dad to fuck you isn’t?” Tony responds without missing a beat. Peter just shrugs, though he knows his father is right: he’s genuinely enjoying their new sexualized dynamic. “Should be dry now, c’mon.” He directs Peter to sit up. “You made quite a mess.”

Peter takes the hint and starts pulling back on his jeans (not bothering with his defiled panties). He still winces harshly, but it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. Tony throws him another satisfied smirk before busying himself with removing the duvet cover.

As Peter pulls back on the rest of his clothes, there’s still a niggling worry at the back of his mind. Deep down, he knows what this will look like to other people if they ever find out. He needs to be 100% sure that Tony isn’t _actually_ a bad dad.

Or as sure as will satisfy his conscience, anyway.

“Would you ever tell Mom about this?” Peter asks Tony as rummages through the linen closet. He pauses his movements, but doesn’t answer right away. “Like, if I wanted to end it?” Tony turns his head, narrowing his eyes as if searching for something in Peter’s face.

“Only if you want me to, Pete,” he answers after a few moments. “Even if _I_ wanted to, there are some choices I really can’t make for you.” Peter’s giddy smile signals his satisfaction with the response, so Tony gets back to find an identical colored duvet.

Maybe Peter never really _wanted_ a “nice” Dad. Just a Daddy who cares...in his own special way, of course.


End file.
